


creeping up the backstairs

by alchemistique



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AKA bad touching, Alternate Universe - High School, HE JUST REALLY LIKES SAM, ILLICIT HOMOSEXUAL AFFAIR, Lucifer is such a sleaze, M/M, because every fandom needs that AU, consent is super sexy, mentions of underage sexual encounters, what am I even doing here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:30:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemistique/pseuds/alchemistique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke Milton. Lucifer, they called him. Sam thinks it’s ridiculous, and he’s not sure how their little group had come up with that nickname, but it stuck. He’s not sure he wants to know. He’s also not sure how to react to the playful kisses Lucifer is currently pressing against his forehead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [148km](https://archiveofourown.org/users/148km/gifts).



> don't just say yes to tease me  
> do your utmost to please me  
> I don't mean to sleazy  
> being you can't be easy
> 
> when you're creepin' up the backstairs  
> mother's nightmares  
> fallin' in the front door, my my  
> climbin' in the window  
> get dressed, let's go  
> take your brother's car keys, bye bye
> 
> \-- The Fratellis, "Creepin' Up The Backstairs"
> 
> This was supposed to be complete and utter porn without plot, until my partner stepped in and bullied me into making it a total mess. Over-dramatic, incredibly self-indulgent, and probably not very good, but I'll let you decide. Cheers. 

***

Sam isn’t quite sure when this... _thing_ started, this – this incredible holy mess he’s gotten himself into. It reeks of sin and scandal and potential debauchery, and god help him, he wants it that way.

Last summer, shortly after he’d turned fifteen, he found himself sitting in Ruby’s basement with pretty much everyone he knew from their tiny prep school. He’s not entirely sure how he’d ended up there, but he was certain it had something to do with the older boy currently snaking an arm around his waist between sips of beer.

Luke Milton. _Lucifer_ , they called him. Sam thinks it’s ridiculous, and he’s not sure how their little group had come up with that nickname, but it stuck. He’s not sure he _wants_ to know. He’s also not sure how to react to the playful kisses Lucifer is currently pressing against his forehead. Sam can feel himself going bright red, stifling in the heat of the basement and under the eyes of his friends. Meg, a dark-haired demon of a girl, is glaring at them from across the circle, and Ruby looks forlorn. Chuck, Becky, Jessica, and Anna are exchanging uneasy glances, and Gabriel takes the opportunity to shove against Lucifer’s arm, pushing him even closer to Sam.

Sam lets out a yelp of surprise, but Lucifer manages to catch him even with the beer in hand, giving him a wicked grin. “Sorry, Sammy,” he says in a low voice, leering above him. “Am I making you...uncomfortable?”

“No,” Sam answers quickly, grabbing the beer right out of Lucifer’s hand and taking a long swig of it. He hates the stuff, but, well – liquid courage, as they say. He’s still not entirely sure how he feels about all of this, about _him_ , but he’s a firm believer in the never-know-until-you-try mentality. He grabs onto Lucifer’s shoulder with one hand and pulls himself onto his lap, with the cheers and jeers of his classmates behind him egging him on.

“Sorry, am I making _you_ uncomfortable?” Sam counters, and Lucifer is just smiling at him, mouth hanging slightly open, inches away from his own, hands planted firmly on Sam’s hips.

“You’re a little young for this,” he breathes, eyes half-lidded and focused on Sam’s lips, and Sam can practically hear Meg fuming from across the room. “Come back when you’re ready to play with the grown-ups.” He winks and gently lifts Sam off his lap and to the floor. Meg looks ready to kill him, and Sam has a feeling he won’t be getting invited to any more parties just yet.

He curses Luke Milton’s existence the whole way home.

***

They share their first kiss that fall. Lucifer is two grades ahead of Sam, and they only see each other in hallways and the lunchroom, but that doesn’t stop Lucifer from brushing a deliberate hand past his shoulder or shooting discreet winks at him from across the lunch line. It’s subtle and hardly anything to work himself up over, but Sam still goes home every night feeling warm and dizzy, which he takes care of under the sheets in the darkness of his bedroom. He’s so far gone and he hasn’t even touched Lucifer yet. He’s young and stupid and horny and Lucifer knows it, god damn everything.

On a cold October afternoon, as he’s heading toward the school gates for the walk home, he’s stopped by a hand yanking him in the other direction.

“Come on,” a voice says, and it’s Lucifer, wrapped up in a worn leather jacket over his uniform, unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. Sam, too confused to protest, follows him across the lawns until they eventually end up behind the gym, the walls shielding them from the autumn wind.

Lucifer doesn’t say anything, just lights his cigarette, the very picture of casual-cool. Sam’s eyes are fixated on Lucifer’s long, slender fingers, which handle the cigarette so delicately in the wind. He tries to clear his head of all thoughts those fingers bring, and instead he wonders vaguely if Dean will be mad at him for coming home late.

“Did you, um –” Sam clears his throat. “Did you want something?”

Lucifer smiles then, as close to genuine as Sam’s ever seen. “Just wanted to spend some time with you, Sammy,” he says easily, flicking ash into the wind. “It’s hard to do that with school and everything.”

“Oh.” Sam shifts again. “Yeah, you’re right. Um. We should hang out more, or – or whatever. Maybe have another party at Ruby’s place?”

“She likes you,” Lucifer chuckles. “Can’t say I blame her.”

“Does she...? Um, I guess she’s pretty nice...”

“Hey now,” Lucifer teases, taking a step closer into Sam’s personal space. “That wasn’t an encouragement. She’s competition, after all.”

“What?” Sam’s staring now, and he backs himself against the wall, fidgeting with the straps on his backpack. “I – what – huh?”

_Fucking smooth, Winchester._

Lucifer tosses his cigarette aside, placing one hand against the wall beside Sam’s face. He’s impossibly close now, and Sam briefly thinks back to every fantasy he’s had just like this. Any second now, his alarm will go off, he just knows it.

He blinks a few times and Lucifer’s still there, hovering just inches from his face, bright blue eyes boring into his. He’s gone completely still, and Sam has no idea what he’s supposed to do next. He’s about to bolt out of pure fear when Lucifer finally speaks.

“It’s okay, Sam,” and his voice is surprisingly tender. “I like you, kiddo, but I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to. I’m all yours, but only if you say yes.”

Sam lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and without further hesitation, closes the distance between their lips. He grips a hand in Lucifer’s short blond locks, pressing his body flush against him. He’s awkward and fumbling, their lips sliding messy and wet, hardly even a proper kiss, but when Lucifer finally pulls away, Sam finds himself actually gasping for air.

Before Sam can even straighten his jacket, Lucifer is already lighting up another cigarette and walking away. He turns to look over his shoulder and winks, lips still red and wet from their kiss.

“See you later, Sammy.”

Sam doesn’t move until Lucifer’s figure is a speck in the distance, and he wipes his lips absentmindedly, heart still racing somewhere in the pit of his stomach.

_Wow._

***

It continues for the rest of the school year. Sam eventually loses track of how many times he meets Lucifer behind the school, how many hickeys he has to hide underneath his collar, how many times Lucifer’s fingers, always freezing regardless of weather, trail along the insides of Sam’s thighs, teasing, never getting close enough despite how he whines and cants his hips. He’s forgotten how many times he’s whispered _yes_ , because Lucifer always, always asks, never presses, never makes the first move. Lucifer’s voice is a constant, soothing presence against his jaw, murmuring impossible praises while his tongue traces the shell of Sam’s ear. It’s hot and dirty and bordering on voyeuristic, but god, Sam wants it, craves it more than anything else he’s ever felt before.

He’s not sure how much longer he can last.

His sixteenth birthday arrives that following May, and with it, Lucifer falls off the radar. He cites finals and his looming graduation as an excuse, but two weeks pass, and Sam hears nothing. Instead he buries his disappointment in books and video games and ignores Dean’s questions. He eventually stops checking his phone for text messages, and spends the majority of his weekends asleep in an attempt to block out all thoughts of Lucifer.

It's half-past eleven on a Thursday night when Sam's phone rings for the first time in weeks. He starts, pushing his laptop aside to squint at the screen, and his heart drops to his stomach when he sees the name.

He picks up before the fourth ring is finished. “...hello?”

“Sammy.”

Sam closes his eyes, counts to five, and lets out a deep breath. “H-Hey, Luke. What's up?”

There's a dark chuckle on the other end, warm and low and it makes Sam shift under the blankets. “What did I say about calling me that?”

“Sorry. Lucifer.” Sam bites back irritation. He has no idea what to say or feel after all this time, so he settles on angry.

“What are you up to, kid?”

“What do you think?” Sam snaps. He stands and makes to put away his laptop, balancing the phone on his shoulder. “I’m getting ready for bed. Some of us actually care about the fact that it’s a school night. And what the hell do you want, anyway?” He can’t stamp down the anger and disappointment, words flying out before he can stop them. “I don’t hear from you for weeks and now you’re calling me up in the middle of the night to – to what, make small talk? God! I don’t have time for this. You probably have something better to do, anyway.” He wants to hang up, but something leaves him there, and the silence between them is absolutely dead.

Almost a full minute passes. “Get dressed,” Lucifer finally says in a quiet voice.

“What?”

“Get dressed and then look outside your bedroom window.”

As if on cue, there's a series of light taps on Sam's window just a few feet away. He parts the curtains and sure enough, there's Lucifer, phone in one hand and a few pebbles in the other, smirking in the light of the moon, like something out of a bad 80's teen flick.

“Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me.”

“Does this look like a joke? Be down here in five minutes. Grab your brother's car keys on your way out.” Lucifer makes to hang up the phone.

“W-Wait! Are you out of your freakin' mind? No way, forget it, you're gonna wake my parents up and who says I want to see you right now anyway, I should've been in bed an hour ago, and –”

“Sam.” There’s a finality in Lucifer’s tone that silences Sam’s protests. “I – I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you. There’s so much I want to tell you and – please? I promise I can make this worth your time.”

Sam breathes a silent curse and rests his head against the window, gazing down at Lucifer in the light of the moon. “Do we have to do this now?”

Lucifer smirks, and god damn him, it melts Sam’s heart right to the core. “It’s certainly dangerous, isn’t it? But if you don’t want to have any fun, then by all means, we’ll reschedule...”

Sam throws up his hands in defeat and hangs up. He scrambles to pull on the first clothes he can find, trying in vain to sneak around his room with as little noise as possible. Still clutching his phone, he slips into the hallway, padding past Dean's room, past his parents’ room, down the stairs and into the foyer. He stops at the hall table and ponders the car keys in the bowl. He shouldn't, _he really shouldn't_ –

Less than a minute later he's outside, running to meet Lucifer across the lawn. Lucifer winks and grins at him devilishly. “Missed you, Sammy.”

“I’m so sure.” Sam frowns, still irritated in spite of the fluttering against his ribcage.

“Did you get the keys? Hand 'em over.” Lucifer makes a grab for his hand, and Sam steps back, scrutinizing him.

“How did you get here, anyway? And how can you possibly be wearing that stupid jacket, it's the end of May, you tool.”

“I'm cold.” Lucifer shrugs against the leather. “And I walked, it's not that far.”

As he says this, they're inadvertently making their way over to the Impala sitting in the driveway, and Sam doesn't even realize it until Lucifer suddenly pushes his back to the driver's door, pinning him against the warm black metal.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he murmurs, and his voice like honey and sin. “Let me make it up to you. Do you wanna go for a drive?” Sam is tall for his age, always has been, but he’s suddenly acutely aware of the fact that Lucifer still has two inches on him, eighteen and covered in a day’s worth of stubble that drives Sam crazy in ways he never could’ve imagined, and _holy shit his hands are_ –

Sam jumps and squeaks when Lucifer's freezing fingers trail underneath his t-shirt, arms clumsily smacking against the door of the Impala. Lucifer just laughs again, keeping him pinned there, and before Sam can get another word in edgewise, Lucifer’s lips are crashing into his.

Lucifer's mouth is hot and slick, the taste of chocolate and cigarettes on his tongue, and it's a mind-numbing contrast from the rest of his body, cold hands on Sam's waist, bleeding coolness onto every inch of him through their clothing. Sam's hands eventually find their way to Lucifer's hair, and he’s desperately pushing himself into the kiss. Lucifer threads his fingers into Sam’s belt loops, grinding hips against hips, freezing skin against warm denim and _why are they doing this in Sam’s driveway for all the neighbors to see_ but it’s good, it’s so good, Sam drinking from it as if his life depended on it, and if only he could get just a little bit closer...

The kiss slows and Lucifer rests his forehead against Sam’s, eyes half-lidded, dark with promise. “Please don’t be mad, Sam,” he whispers, breath cool against his lips. He cups a hand around his cheek, cradling his face. “I want to give you everything, if you’ll let me. I know it’s late, so we don’t have to do this tonight, but...”

“No!” Sam says a little too quickly, grabbing onto the sleeve of Lucifer’s jacket. “I – I mean, it’s okay that it’s a school night, I’ve done all my homework and I don’t need to sleep that much and tomorrow’s Friday anyway and maybe I can just pretend to be sick and stay home and –” He’s reaching, his mouth moving faster than his brain, and he’s probably reading way too much into Lucifer’s words, but at this point, he’ll say anything to get those lips on his again.

Lucifer just shakes his head and laughs again, leaning in for another kiss. “I promise we won’t be too late, boy scout.”

This time, when Lucifer pulls away for real, the Impala keys are dangling from one finger in front of Sam's face. Sam, still breathless and dizzy from the assault on his mouth, just stares at him.

“Step aside, Sammy.” Lucifer lightly taps his hip, nudging him. “Get in.”

Sam, too thrilled with the promise of adventure, doesn't argue. He flings himself into the passenger seat, and it's a miracle that the roar of the Impala doesn't send Dean running out the front door. Seconds later, Lucifer is carefully backing out of the drive and onto the street, with only the dim streetlights as their guide.

“I could’ve driven,” Sam mutters after a moment, pouting and looking strangely small with his arms folded across his chest. “Technically it’s my car too.”

“You and what license?” Lucifer teases. “Isn’t this more romantic, your dangerous boyfriend taking you out for a ride in your brother’s car in the dead of night?”

Sam’s mind lingers on the word _boyfriend_ , and he finds himself staring adamantly at Lucifer’s lips while he talks. “Is that what you are?” he asks faintly, his earlier irritation ebbing away. Lucifer only responds with another wink.

“Dean doesn’t like you,” Sam says after a moment.

“Dean’s an idiot.”

Sam pulls a face. “He thinks you’re a bad seed or whatever. And too old for me. Something about bad touching.”

Lucifer outright laughs, sounding more like a bark in the confined car. “Only if you want _bad touching_ , Sammy.” And god damn him for emphasizing those words. “Only if you want it.”

“I think that’s what Dean meant about you being a total creep.” Sam rolls his eyes, bringing his knees to his chest. “And here you were thinking you were being _romantic_. Where are you taking me, anyway?”

“Wherever you want to go,” Lucifer answers earnestly, like he would take Sam to the moon and back if he could. “Preferably some place...quiet.” He clips the end of the word, letting the suggestion hang heavy in the air between them. In spite of the Midwestern heat, so brutal even before the official start of summer, Sam feels a deep chill down his spine, emphasized by the fact that Lucifer is still radiating coolness even inside the car. He still can’t take his eyes off of him, admiring the hard line of his jaw, the mussed clumps of blond hair, long fingers gracefully wrapped around the steering wheel, _fingers that could do lots of other things, too, couldn’t they_ –

“We could go to Black Rock Point,” Sam says in what he hopes is a casual tone, hands fidgeting in his lap. “If you – I mean, if you can’t think of anything else...”

Lucifer briefly glances at him from the corner of his eyes, lips curling into something positively wicked. “You’d like that, huh?”

“I – it was just a suggestion!” Sam quickly looks away, focusing his attention on the window instead. “I mean, what else is there to do?”

“You are just the most precious thing,” Lucifer concedes, turning onto the darkened dirt road that leads to Black Rock. “But you’ve figured me out, nonetheless.”

Before Sam knows it, they’re parked and Lucifer is turning the car off, leaving them shrouded in utter darkness. Sam takes a moment to stare out the windshield in awe of both the view and the fact that they are completely alone, despite the reputation of the area. Sam realizes the underhanded fucking trick of Lucifer specifically picking a weeknight for the occasion.

Speaking of the devil, he’s gone completely still in the driver’s seat, one arm propped on the dashboard, head in his hand, staring at Sam expectantly. It borders on unnerving, and Sam has suddenly forgotten the entire purpose of hands and legs, shifting around awkwardly in the small space.

“Surely you’ve done this before,” Lucifer says after a moment. “Good-looking kid like you, right? All limbs and sexy hair, I can’t imagine how many girls must be falling before you.” He’s smirking, eyes locked with Sam’s, but there’s the tiniest hint of jealousy and possessiveness to his words.

Sam stares at him, dumbfounded, mouth hanging slightly open. “I – no, no, I’ve never been with anyone. At all. I mean, other than you, I guess – that’s Dean’s thing, I – I’m just his brother, that’s all anyone knows me for.”

“Really?” There’s genuine surprise when Lucifer raises his eyebrows. “I can’t imagine why no one else has pursued you when it’s all I’ve wanted for the past two years.” He says this so easily, without hesitation, and Sam feels something clench in his stomach.

Lucifer’s moving forward then, carefully cradling both sides of Sam’s face. It’s cramped and awkward, but he eventually manages to straddle Sam’s hips, legs tucked on either side of him on the passenger seat, chest to chest. He threads his fingers into Sam’s hair, gripping it against his neck and gently pulling back to expose pale, tender skin, pressing his lips to Sam’s pulse. “I must confess,” he breathes against him, and this is definitely _bad touching_ , “that I’ve wanted this for a very, very long time.”

“Then what were you waiting for?” Sam counters in a near-whisper as Lucifer sucks a bruise at the base of his throat. “You could’ve just asked.”

“Oh, Sammy,” he sighs. “There’s no rush, you know. It’s a very... _adult_ decision, after all. You just have to say yes.”

“Oh,” Sam says dumbly, letting his eyes flutter closed as Lucifer continues creating a line of hickeys down his neck. “Um. Well – yeah, it’s my decision then, isn’t it?”

“Entirely yours, Sam. But don’t say yes just to tease me. You have to really want it.” Lucifer’s grip tightens on Sam’s hair, and he pulls his face forward, blue eyes meeting his own. “Do you want this, Sam?” There’s absolute promise in his voice, one that Sam knows Lucifer is more than capable of fulfilling. His hands are still poised on either side of Sam’s face, gentle against his skin, waiting. There’s a heavy silence, and Sam is amazed at Lucifer’s ability to make him weak at the knees just by simply existing.

“Yes,” he finally blurts out, and wastes no time in crushing his lips against Lucifer’s. “Please,” he manages to stutter through the kiss, “yes, please, I want this.”

Lucifer lets out something of a growl, deep and pleased and utterly sinful. “Get in the back seat.”

Sam has never been more grateful for the Impala’s wide seats and lack of headrests. He slides over it easily, then twists to face Lucifer, yanking on the collar of his absurd leather jacket. Their lips meet again, and there’s something different this time, something wet and messy and nothing short of delicious. Lucifer is already the very picture of debauchery, jacket half sliding off his shoulders, lips red and full, and he’s _still fucking smirking_.

“Are you just gonna sit there or are you gonna come back here and join me?” Sam’s voice is a challenge, steady despite the fact that his heart is in his stomach.

Lucifer quirks an eyebrow, elegant as ever. “So demanding. I’m surprised, Sammy.” But he snakes over to him nonetheless, and after some shuffling, he settles easily between the younger boy’s legs.

And this is where Sam completely freezes. He’s solid under Lucifer’s weight, staring up at him in a mixture of awe and helplessness, hands still tight on Lucifer’s sleeves.

“So...what now?”

“Now, Sam,” Lucifer whispers against him, tongue tracing his earlobe, “now we’re going to have some fun. That all right?”

Sam actually gulps, giving the tiniest nod. “Uh-huh. That – I’d like that.”

Lucifer slips out of his jacket, carelessly tossing it into the front seat before attacking his jaw line again. “So ready for it, aren’t you?” He tugs at the hem of Sam’s shirt, stripping him bare, and his own follows shortly after. Then there are teeth on his collarbone, tongue slick and warm on the freckles of his chest. “So beautiful, Sammy, just waiting for me all this time...”

“Please,” Sam manages to gasp out, and he’s rewarded with a hand on his cock, thumbing the length of him through the thin denim.

“Sammy,” Lucifer practically purrs, “what _have_ you been hiding under there?”

Sam bucks his hips, against his better judgement, desperate for Lucifer’s freezing fingers. “Ah – please, please, I –”

And then Lucifer’s sliding his tongue along his chest, filthy and rough, down to the dip of his navel. He sinks to the floorboards on his knees, and _oh christ almighty, he’s using his teeth to unzip him, how is he doing that_ –

“Believe me,” Lucifer whispers, as if he can read Sam’s mind, “there are lots of other things this mouth can do.”

A moan finally escapes Sam, and he lets his head fall back against the leather as Lucifer works his jeans off. He feels dizzy and faint and he’s half-convinced himself that having said mouth on his dick will be the only cure. The hand that suddenly comes in contact with bare flesh is certainly a start.

“So warm,” Lucifer murmurs, and Sam can feel his breath against his thigh, teeth nipping at the soft flesh there while he jacks his fingers along the shaft of Sam’s cock. “So perfect, so perfect for me, put together just for me, weren’t you?” He’s painfully close, dragging his tongue, nails grasping for purchase at his hips, and then he’s there, and –

It occurs to Sam, probably at the worst time ever, that this is his first blowjob. His first – anything, really, and Lucifer knows that, and he wonders just how many times Lucifer’s done this before, because the way his tongue swirls and slides is probably indication enough. Sam flails an arm wildly in the dark before finding Lucifer’s hair, fist clenched tight around the tendrils. Lucifer presses the flat of his tongue to the head, swallows him whole, and the scent of it is everywhere, filling Sam’s throat and lungs and he thinks it’s very possible that he might die from this.

Lucifer pulls his lips off far too soon for Sam’s liking, and Sam hauls him up by his shoulders for another kiss, yanking his hips down, desperate for any sort of friction. He manages to flip them over and pins Lucifer to the leather seat, hands still gripped tightly in his hair, breathing heavily against his lips.

“Sam,” Lucifer sighs, and Sam thinks he’ll never tire of hearing his name on those perfect lips. “Seeing something you like?”

“You,” Sam blurts out, “I want you.” He tugs at Lucifer’s belt in earnest, fingers shaking. “Please. Please, I’ve never wanted something as much as –”

“Sam,” Lucifer breathes again, slowly pulling his hands away. “Oh, Sammy. I told you, we don’t have to do this right now.”

“I want to,” Sam bites back fiercely. “You said it was my decision, so I’m telling you. Isn’t – isn’t that what you wanted?” He falters, and Lucifer starts laughing, god damn him.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, brushing a strand of Sam’s hair from his forehead. “Absolutely beautiful, you are. And that’s why I want this to be something special.”

“Wh – then what the hell was all of this?” Sam furrows his brow at him. “The – the sneaking away in the middle of the night, I mean, isn’t this...what you wanted?” His face starts to fall in disappointment, and he pulls away a little, cursing his youth and ignorance.

Lucifer takes his hand and strokes it softly, tilting Sam’s chin to look at him. “Of course I want you, Sam. I want all of you, I want to give you the whole world. And I’m sorry I checked out like that, I...I had to wait. I had to be sure.”

Sam actually snorts. “Really? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve been making myself clear for the better half of a year.”

Lucifer smiles, and Sam’s heart lifts again. Lucifer places a hand on his cheek, thumbing his lower lip. “So perfect,” he whispers again. “I’m going to make you all mine, Sam. Only in a matter of time. We’ll have the whole universe to ourselves, you and I, so what’s the rush?”

Sam just pulls a face. “That makes you sound so sleazy.”

Lucifer’s lips twitch with something torn between offended and amused. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be.”

“You’re also really weird.”

He chuckles darkly and plants one final kiss on Sam’s forehead before prying him off of his lap and reaching for his jacket. “Quite possibly, yes. Now let’s drive you home. It’s past your bedtime, isn’t it?”

Sam fumes quietly for the entire ride. When Lucifer finally dumps him back onto the driveway, slipping the Impala keys into Sam’s pocket, Sam huffs indignantly and turns away, crossing his arms. Lucifer laughs against his ear and kisses his neck before sending him on his way, disappearing into the darkness as easily as he came.

Sam hauls himself up the stairs as quickly and silently as he can, locking his bedroom door behind him and throwing himself under the sheets. He swallows his disappointment and wastes no time in ditching his jeans and boxers in favor of a hand, and when he comes at long last, it’s with a plea and a name upon his lips.

He really doesn’t want to go to school tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well I'm so above you  
> and it's plain to see  
> but I came to love you anyway  
> so you tore my heart out  
> and I don't mind bleeding  
> any old time you keep me waiting, waiting, waiting
> 
> I got a love that keeps me waiting  
> I got a love that keeps me waiting  
> I'm a lonely boy  
> I'm a lonely boy  
> I got a love that keeps me waiting
> 
> \-- The Black Keys, "Lonely Boy"
> 
> Oh, look, I came up with more of this nonsense.

***

Sam wakes up with a weight in his stomach and an ache in his dick, the latter being an incredible inconvenience above all else. He drags himself through the motions of his morning routine, and when he finally arrives downstairs at the breakfast table, Dean gives him a horrified look as Sam pours his cereal.

“What?” Sam snaps, and Dean just turns away, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably.

“You’re lucky mom and dad aren’t here,” is all Dean says in response, and Sam just tilts his head, confused, before pushing away his half empty cereal bowl. He doesn’t have much of an appetite anymore.

He’s at his school locker half an hour later. Before he can even start opening it, a tiny, pretty, blonde mess of hair is hurtling towards him through the halls and yanking him away from the lockers.

“Get in here, Sam Winchester.”

“Jessica, this is the girl’s restr –”

“Move it!”

She pushes him into the blessedly empty restroom, locking the door behind her. Sam opens his mouth to protest again, but she silences him when she tugs on his tie and starts to unbutton his collar.

“uhhhJessicawhatthehellareyoudoing –”

“You are really something, Sam Winchester,” she says in a huff, reaching for the foundation in her bag. “I mean, _really_. Really? Look at you. What if Ruby saw that? What if _Meg_ saw that?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that you’ve seemingly turned into a leopard overnight!” She turns him towards the mirror, and – yeah, it’s a wonder that Sam _didn’t_ notice the line of bruises that dip down to his shoulder.

He sees his reflection going bright red as Jess goes to work blending the makeup over his skin, clicking her tongue and muttering something about _teenage boys_ the whole way. Sam goes still and lets himself be subjected to Jess’s feminine magic, mind wandering to the lips and teeth responsible for said hickeys.

“There.” He hears the case snap shut and Jessica places it in his hand, folding his fingers over it. “Keep this, I have more and you’ll need it for later. Try not to get yourself beat up today, okay? You’ll break poor Ruby’s heart, and Meg would lay you out in a minute flat.”

“I don’t know why you keep bringing up Meg and Ruby, but all right, I’ll...try...” Sam is still staring at his neck, dazed, and Jess pushes him back over to the door.

“Gossip. It’s – you really don’t know? Whatever, never mind, get out before someone sees you.”

“You brought me here in the first pla –”

“Out!”

“Jeez, all right, calm down...”

Sam unlocks the door, peeks out, and waits for a break in the crowd before slipping into the hall. He’s back at his locker a minute later, and just as he finally gets it open, he feels a distinctly cold hand on his shoulder.

“Good morning, Sammy. Sleep well?” Lucifer’s voice is bordering on innocent, which, given that it’s _Lucifer_ , makes it sound all the more sultry. Sam steels his shoulders and straightens up to his full height, concentrating on the textbooks in front of him.

“Aw, Sammy,” Lucifer continues. “You seem upset. A little tired, maybe?”

Sam bites back the _fuck you_ in his throat and continues to steadfastly ignore him. Lucifer, completely (and probably purposely) ignorant of the other students around them, leans in and brushes his lips against the base of Sam’s jaw.

“It’s a shame you had to cover those up,” he whispers. “I rather like seeing my mark on you. But then...” He plants a kiss on Sam’s cheek, and there are definitely people staring now – “I suppose I also like keeping you all to myself.”

Sam tries and fails to repress a shiver, taking a step away from Lucifer and finally turning to glare at him. “You’re being a little _obvious_ , don’t you think?” he hisses, eyes darting around the hallway, and he can’t help noticing that people have stopped in their tracks nearby. Lucifer just stares at Sam’s lips, looking as though it’s taking all his effort not to push Sam against the wall and claim him right there. There’s a part of Sam that actually wouldn’t mind if he did.

Somewhere above them, the first bell is ringing, but Sam is still blushing under the scrutiny of Lucifer’s gaze. Lucifer finally pulls away, all lazy grace, and ruffles his hair. As if he _wasn’t_ just staring at him like he was about to be ravished. Sam feels a weird mixture of irritation and lust, unable to do anything else as Lucifer walks away and disappears around a corner.

Sam distracts himself with his backpack and books, hurriedly sorting through the mess in his locker before closing it and heading off to his homeroom. He’s stopped again just a few feet later when Ruby steps into his path, startling him.

“Hi, Sam.”

“Hey...Ruby...” He looks her over once and there’s something of a sad smile on her face, her eyes attempting to hide disappointment. Sam shifts awkwardly on his feet, glancing over her head at his homeroom door just down the hall. “I...what’s up? I was just, you know, on my way to class, so...”

“Yeah, I –” She fidgets with the hem of her plaid skirt, staring at her feet. Sam is pretty certain she’s actually fluttering her eyelashes. “I just. Um. We haven’t hung out in a while and stuff, and – do you wanna, like, get a coffee after school sometime? Like a...” She trails off as the warning bell rings, and Sam claps her shoulder absentmindedly.

“Yeah, definitely, we’ll – we’ll get back to that later, all right? I’ll see you around or whatever.” He hurries past her for the safety of his homeroom, pointedly turning away from the fact that Ruby is still in the hallway, arms clenched at her sides in defeat.

***

It’s a wonder that Sam makes it through the morning. He’s silently praising the fact that Lucifer isn’t in his grade, and therefore hardly any of his classes. Instead he keeps his head down for most of his lectures and tries to ignore the ache in his stomach, low and warm and threatening to boil over into something uncontrollable. He’s practically fuming by the time he gets to lunch, and he collapses into a seat next to Jess, covering his face with his math book.

“Hell of a morning, huh?” Jess brushes the hair away from his neck, soothing, and Sam doesn’t move. She leans in beside him, offering a sympathetic smile. “Messing around with someone like Luke Milton, though, I’m not surprised. You wanna share with the class or what?”

Sam drags himself up and sighs, deflating. “There’s not much to share. He’s a jerk and a tease and I hate his stupid guts.” He hates that he sounds like some twelve-year-old girl. He’s actually pouting, god damn everything.

“Which means you’re totally head over heels for him,” Jess responds simply. “There’s already lots of talk around these halls...”

Sam groans and sinks to the table again, closing his eyes. “Do I even wanna – no, I don’t, I don’t want to know. Great, now everyone’s heard about our dirty sexy laundry, I’m sure.”

Jess goes quiet, picking at her manicured nails. “Ruby’s heard about it, I think.”

“And Ruby! What’s the deal?” Sam turns to look at her. “I saw her this morning and she was all weird, is she mad at me or something?”

Jess puts her head in her hand, exasperated. “She _likes_ you, Sam. I mean, _really likes you_. Has forever. But now that you’re all up and having some weird homosexual freak-out or whatever, with _Luke Milton_ , no less, she’s kind of beating herself up over it.”

“Wh – well – well what am I supposed to do?” Sam hides in his textbook again. “Ruby’s great, she’s always been one of my best friends, but I’ve never –” He shakes his head. “I don’t know, Jess. You know me, probably better than anyone else. I don’t – girls are just –”

“I know, Sam,” she sighs, placing a hand on his. “I’ve always known. I just didn’t think it would ever be an issue, and I didn’t think you’d end up chasing after someone like...”

“Someone like what?” he snaps. “You make him sound like such a bad guy. Come on, you’ve hung out with him too, haven’t you ever realized that he’s actually just a huge fucking nerd?”

“A huge nerd who goes around in leather jackets and smokes and – and – I don’t know, probably has some weird kinky sex basement for all we know!”

“Oh my god.” Sam is torn between laughter and anger. “You are so prep school, Jess. Are you kidding me right now?”

“I’m just looking out for you, Sam! He doesn’t really seem like – I don’t know, boyfriend material or whatever. Look at what he’s done to you. What happened, anyway?”

Sam sighs and shakes his head again, scratching at the table absentmindedly. “He...we...I don’t know, we hadn’t talked in weeks and then he just showed up at my window last night. We took Dean’s car, he still doesn’t know. We went up to Black Rock, and...and...” He goes bright red, and Jess leans in conspiratorially, eyes wide. Sam covers his mouth, shifting uncomfortably. “He...we...made out a lot or whatever and thenhegavemeablowjobbutwouldn’thavesexwithme that’s it, that’s the end.”

Jess looks utterly shocked, and Sam briefly wonders if maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all. But god damn his mouth, it keeps running anyway. “We’ve also been meeting in secret behind the school every day for the better part of a year, these aren’t the first hickeys he’s left on me. He’s – god, I don’t know, Jess. He’s – he’s _sexy_ and funny and nice and a total dork and really fucking frustrating and I never _wanted_ to feel this way and I never wanted to hurt anyone and I know he’s probably just gonna keep jerking me around until he graduates and leaves forever but – I – he’s –” Sam finally gives up and covers his face again. Jess closes her mouth and blinks a few times, a concerned look gracing her pretty features.

“Sam Winchester, what have you gotten yourself into?”

“Don’t even, Jess. Just – yeah, I’m terrible, I get it.” Sam runs a hand through his hair and then rubs his eyes, annoyed. “And here we are. I don’t really know what else to do next.”

He looks to the cafeteria door as he says this, and _what is with this guy and his timing_ , Lucifer strolls through the open double doors like he owns the fucking place. He catches sight of Sam, winks, then cuts to the front of the lunch line and pockets an apple. Sam glares at him the whole time, and Lucifer gives him a mock salute before exiting out the back door. Sam turns back to Jess, crossing his arms in irritation.

“Man, that guy...”

Jess glances at the clock on the wall and taps her chin. “Come to think of it, isn’t he in our gym class next period?”

_Fuck._

***

In the midst of all this scandal, Sam has completely forgotten about gym. The fact that Lucifer is changing less than twenty feet away from him only serves as a reminder. Every inch of Sam screams at him to turn away because he’s being _really fucking obvious_ in a room full of fifty other guys, but the stark outline of Lucifer’s form, his arms, his bare chest, the dip of his waist – Sam drinks it all in, shameless, mouth hanging slightly open at the very idea.

Frustrated beyond all belief, Sam picks up his backpack and gym clothes and flees to the bathroom. After assuring himself that he’s alone, he loosens his tie and goes to work fixing the makeup on his neck, leaning close to the mirror, tongue between his teeth as he struggles with the poofy cloth in his hand.

It takes him longer than he anticipated. He straightens up and the sudden silence of the locker room is pressing, and he realizes that the rest of the class must’ve left already. He curses and tosses the foundation back into his bag, bolting out of the bathroom to finish changing.

Much to Sam’s chagrin (and with little surprise), Lucifer is sitting on a bench directly in front of the bathroom door, already dressed in his school-issued gym shirt and sweatpants. He leans back against the wall of lockers, still managing to look infuriatingly beautiful. Sam’s heart sinks to his stomach.

“Don’t you wanna talk, Sam?”

“Don’t we have to go outside for class?” Sam counters in what he hopes is a steady voice. “I’m not even dressed yet,” he adds helplessly, as if this will magically make Lucifer go away.

Lucifer shifts deliberately on the bench, legs spreading ever so slightly, eyes never leaving Sam’s. “Class can wait, it’s just gym. This is private enough, don’t you think?” Sam looks ready to bolt, and Lucifer’s expression softens. He extends a hand. “Come here, Sam.”

Sam, in spite of himself, takes a few steps forward. Lucifer tugs on his tie and pulls him in, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss. Lucifer places a hand on Sam’s hip and tugs again until he’s straddling Lucifer on the bench, and he loses his footing in the process, letting out a yelp as he grasps for purchase on the lockers in front of him.

Lucifer just laughs. “You’re so cute when you’re nervous.”

“You’re a jerk,” Sam says with no real bite, and Lucifer yanks on his tie again with a whine.

“Come on, Sam,” he murmurs against his neck. “Hiding those marks again...maybe I should make some more?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam responds with a hint of anger, “and you seem to be under the delusion that I’m not horrifically mad at you. Why would I want to talk to you?”

“Because I know you, Sammy,” Lucifer whispers, and his voice has gone low, fingers pressing against the crease of Sam’s pants and god dammit, he’s hard already, body betraying him with the promise of another voyeuristic adventure. “I know what you want. The only question is whether or not you’re going to take what I have to give you.”

Sam growls and stands quickly, pulling Lucifer off the bench with him. Fueled by nothing but pure rage and lust, he throws Lucifer against the lockers and he’s on him in a second, hands bruising on his hips. He knows it must be incredibly uncomfortable, but Lucifer throws his head back and laughs, like Sam is an adorable puppy with a new toy.

“Fuck you,” Sam hisses, and clashes their lips together again, hot and rough, all teeth and tongues. Lucifer is surprisingly pliant beneath him, and Sam takes the opportunity to wrestle off the drab gray gym shirt.

“God, I want you,” he groans against his lips, and Lucifer goes to work on Sam’s tie in response. “Please,” Sam whispers, quieter, “please, why won’t you give this to me?”

“You have me, Sam,” Lucifer assures him, cradling his face between kisses. “What is it that you want, exactly?”

Sam lets out another frustrated moan and pins Lucifer’s hips to the lockers, sinking to his knees. Lucifer smirks and grips his hair none-too-gently. “Oh, Sam, so _aggressive_...”

“Shut up.” Sam makes quick work of discarding Lucifer’s sweats, nuzzling against the growing bulge beneath his boxers. Lucifer gasps, nearly inaudible, and Sam’s hands are shaking on his waist, hesitant.

“Is this what you wanted, Sam?” Lucifer whispers, half-lidded eyes gazing down at him. “I told you, I’m all yours. Are you gonna take what you want?”

Sam wastes no more time in shedding Lucifer’s boxers, trailing the tip of his tongue along the head of Lucifer’s cock. He’s impossibly huge, already hard and leaking and Sam wants to lap up every last drop of it, wants all of Lucifer in every way. He presses his tongue along the hot underside, shivering under the contrast of Lucifer’s cold fingers ghosting along the back of his neck. His hands are tight in Sam’s hair, shifting to pull him closer, and Sam obliges, taking in all of him, drinking from his heavy scent, breathing it in.

“Sammy,” Lucifer practically whimpers, canting his hips. “Oh, Sammy, you’re a natural, aren’t you...”

Sam pops his lips off to look up at him, completely serious. “I googled it,” he admits shamelessly.

Lucifer cackles, a tinny sound against the metal lockers. “That’s so adorable.”

“Shut up.”

“You’ve learned well.”

“I said _shut up_.” Sam shoves Lucifer’s hips against the wall and wraps his mouth around his cock again, tongue swirling at the base. Lucifer gasps, half surprise and half unbearable pleasure, and he’s whispering filthy praises in Sam’s name over and over again, like some twisted form of a prayer.

Sam runs his tongue along the slit and Lucifer heaves his shoulders one last time, a shudder racking through his entire body as he comes, and Sam takes it all, swallows every last drop of his essence. Lucifer collapses against the lockers, giggling breathlessly like some smitten schoolgirl. Sam keeps him pinned there, lips hovering near his, a slight glow creeping onto his cheeks in the aftermath. Lucifer looks completely wrecked, hair sweat-slick against his forehead, and Sam wants to ruin his lips and neck, mark him as he had done to Sam.

“Next time,” he breathes into the kiss, “I want _all_ of you.”

“Patience,” Lucifer whispers back, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “I’m all yours, Sam. Every inch of me is yours.”

“Well...good,” Sam finishes lamely, finally releasing Lucifer and shyly turning away while he puts his sweats back on. As if he _hadn’t_ just sucked him off in an empty private school locker room. He’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s still in his uniform, gym clothes and backpack abandoned somewhere near the bathroom door.

“Class is almost over, anyway,” Lucifer says from behind him. “Think anyone will notice we’re gone?” He can practically _hear_ him winking.

“Jessica, probably,” Sam mutters, feeling a blush creep onto his face. “She’s gonna wanna know all about this...”

“Prep school scandal,” Lucifer mocks. “I know a few select people who wouldn’t be too happy with this, either.”

Sam turns to see Lucifer perching on the bench, fully dressed, and he scoots over next to him. Lucifer places his hand over Sam’s, fingers intertwining. “Jess sort of mentioned something like that at lunch,” Sams says after a moment. “About Ruby, you know. She likes me.”

Lucifer sighs. “She does, I know. And then there’s Meg...” He clicks his tongue. “Now there’s a force to be reckoned with.”

Sam bites his lip. “What about Meg?”

Lucifer just smirks, almost sardonic. “You have your Ruby, and I have Meg. She’s been after me since freshman year. Doesn’t really like it when people get in the way.”

“Oh.” Sam furrows his brow, concerned. “And?”

“And?”

“Do you...are you two...” Sam doesn’t want to say it – surely Lucifer wouldn’t be doing this otherwise, right? He thinks back to Jess and Dean and all of the people before them who swore up and down that Lucifer was no good. There’s a heavy pause between them and Lucifer sighs.

“Sophomore year. Before I met you. We had a few dates, the last of which ended in...well.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively, and Sam’s stomach churns with what could only be jealousy. “But I knew it wasn’t gonna work out between the two of us, so I ended it. She never quite got over that. It wasn’t, mind you, a result of ulterior motives or just wanting a quick fuck –” Sam winces at the confirmation – “I was still a perfect gentleman about it. But, well, Meg is...Meg. You know her.”

Sam stares down at his hands, mind reeling. “It’s not much to be concerned about,” Lucifer continues. “She’s not totally crazy or anything, and we’re both seniors, it’ll all be over soon enough. Besides,” he turns to give Sam a longing, meaningful look, “I want you. In fact, I’m quite certain that you’re all I will ever want for the rest of my life.”

Sam can feel himself burning up again, and Lucifer smiles, resting his forehead against Sam’s, placing a cool hand on his cheek.

“We still have ten minutes before everyone’s due back,” he says, trailing his other hand along the inside of Sam’s thigh. “What do you think we could do in ten minutes?”

Sam, god damn everything and this whole mess, surrenders completely.

***

When the final bell rings, Sam bolts from his classroom, pushing his way through the crowds on the way to Lucifer’s locker. He catches Lucifer’s sleeve just in time, and Lucifer turns to look at him passively, expectant, a hint of a smile on his features.

“Yes, Sammy?”

Sam hesitates, still clutching Lucifer’s worn jacket. “I – I was just, um – wondering, you see, if, um, at some point – if you – well –” He shuts his mouth quickly, teeth clacking together, and he can feel himself going bright red under Lucifer’s patient gaze.

“If I what, Sammy?”

“I was wondering...if...you...wantedtocometomyhousethisweekendandhavedinnerwithmyfamily,” Sam mutters breathlessly, staring intently at the linoleum tiles beneath his shoes.

Lucifer quirks an eyebrow and takes a step closer. “That sounds...nice,” he concludes. “I’d like that.”

“Oh.” Sam lets out a long breath. “Well. Um, okay. Good.”

Lucifer grins. “I’m looking forward to it.” He takes the opportunity to grab Sam’s tie, reminiscent of his move in the locker room. Sam internally panics, painfully aware of the crowd of jocks three lockers down and _oh god please don’t do this right here right now_ – but Lucifer simply straightens it, smoothing down his collar and running a hand through Sam’s hair.

“Tomorrow night, then? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Uh – yeah, tomorrow night, I’lltextyouokaybye!” Sam stumbles backwards and sprints out of the hallway before Lucifer can get another word in edgewise. Lucifer just stares after him, a pleased smile on his lips.

Sam runs most of the way home, and all he can think of is what Dean will have to say about this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  in tortoise, in shell, in hell  
> you'll find me on my back  
> I crack once more, yes I am just a tart  
> a heart on stilts  
> pick a flower and it will wilt  
> to die in bliss for greedy lover's kiss  
> old palm trees  
> sway in the breeze  
> lick my lips  
> I'll be alone forever  
> you'll never get my heart
> 
> \-- The Geraldine Fibbers, "California Tuffy"
> 
>   
> Apologies for the delay here! School started and this was put on the back burner for a while, but here's a marginally longer chapter to make up for it. As always, enjoy. (But do ignore the terrible coding in this section; I'm done fighting with AO3 and it's way past my bedtime.)

***

When Sam walks in the door, Dean is sitting in their father’s leather recliner in the parlor, facing Sam with a sense of purpose that’s not the least bit amicable. Sam slowly closes the front door behind him, dutifully staring at the tiles in the hallway and avoiding his brother’s eyes. Dean finally clears his throat and Sam, taking the hint, steps into the parlor and obediently waits for the lecture Dean is sure to deliver.

“Sam.”

He stands up a little straighter at that; Dean almost always calls him “Sammy.” He’s surprised he didn’t pull the “Samuel” card instead.

Dean shifts in the chair, leaning forward like he wants to tell Sam a secret. “Do you know what I discovered in my car this morning?”

Sam feels his blood run cold. Did they leave...what, a pair of dirty boxers or something? God forbid. He keeps a passive expression, eyes trained on his brother’s.

“I don’t know.” He gives a careless shrug. “What?”

“Absolute filth, Sam,” Dean responds in a completely serious tone. Sam fights the urge to roll his eyes at his brother’s dramatics. “Filth! It stinks like sex and bad cologne that even I wouldn’t wear. So unless Dad is getting something else on the side, I’m at a bit of a loss, here. You got any ideas?”

Something in Sam’s expression must give him away, because this is _Dean_ and Sam isn’t the best liar to begin with. Dean gives him a hard stare for another minute.

“So who is she?”

“Wh – what?” Sam feels the heat creeping onto the back of his neck.

“I mean, obviously you’re banging some chick, right? Wanted to show her a good time in your brother’s car? Look man, it happens to the best of us, but next time just go easy on the –”

“It’s Luke.”

This time it’s Dean’s turn to look taken aback. “...come again?”

Sam shifts on his feet a little. “The – last night, that whole thing. It wasn’t – no, don’t give me that look, you already have Cas. And I...” He hesitates. “I have Luke. Now. I guess.” He lingers on the sentence, letting the words roll over his tongue. _You have him, and he has you._

Dean’s frantic head-shaking snaps him back to the scene. “All right, wait, wait, wait, back up. Luke...this wouldn’t be Luke Milton you’re talking about? _That_ Luke?”

Sam takes on a defensive stance. “So what if it is?”

Dean groans and actually throws his hands up. “Luke Milton. Michael’s-little-brother-Luke-Milton? In the back seat of _my car_? Seriously, Sammy? That douchebag?”

“Hey!” Sam looks indignant. “Wh – why does everyone think that? He’s...he’s nice.”

“Sure, just like Michael is _nice_. Grade-A pricks with entitlement issues, that whole family. Didn’t we talk about this?”

“I didn’t realize it was any of your concern,” Sam answers coolly.

“Yeah, well, it is.” Dean stands up as if the conversation is over, sealed, and locked away in a drawer. “I forbid it.”

“What!” Sam moves to the doorway, blocking Dean’s path. “You’re not Dad, you can’t say that kind of thing! You hardly even know him!”

“It’s for your own good, Sammy. Now get out of the way.”

“He’s coming over for dinner tomorrow night!” Sam blurts out, placing his hands on Dean’s chest to stop him. “I invited him today after school and he’s coming and I’m gonna tell Mom and she’ll cook this whole big dinner and you’ll invite Cas and – and it’s gonna be really nice and I’m not gonna let you mess it up!”

Dean glowers down at him (hardly, they’re nearly at eye level), and Sam holds his ground. They’re locked in a battle of pure will when the front door clicks open and Mary Winchester shoulders her way in with an armful of grocery bags.

“Hello, boys. Did I hear something about dinner tomorrow night?”

Sam releases Dean and gives her a firm nod. “I’m having a friend from school over tomorrow night. Cas is gonna come too.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely, I’ll make a roast.” She breezes past them into the kitchen. “Dean, will you come help me with these, please? I’m sure Sammy has homework he should be working on!”

Sam bolts for the stairs without a second thought, and Dean’s red-hot glare follows him all the way up.

***

Sam doesn’t do his homework. What he does is spend the better part of an hour pacing his bedroom as Dean’s classic rock bleeds through the walls, phone sitting innocently on his desk.

He finally picks it up and types three letters, hitting send before he can think twice about it.

You (6:17 PM): Hey

_– and really, why are you so nervous anyway, it’s not like he’s going to ignore you, you’re practically going out already, isn’t this what couples do –_

It takes Lucifer far too long to respond. Maybe he’s...what, fallen asleep? Or simply doesn’t want to talk to him? Sam is just about to put the phone down and walk away –

Luke (6:25 PM): hi sammy! :)

_What a nerd._

He breathes relief and feels his heart skip just a little bit faster as he taps out a careful response.

You (6:26 PM): Dinner tomorrow night, right? I told my mom and she said she’ll make a roast. Will that be okay?

Luke (6:29 PM): of course sammy, anything is ok as long as i get to hang out with you :) what time should i be there?

You (6:31 PM): Wow I didn’t even ask...I would assume six, that seems safe enough.

Luke (6:35 PM): should i look nice? i only want to be the perfect gentleman when meeting your family

You (6:36 PM): Ha ha...sure, at the very least I know my dad will appreciate it. Leave the leather jacket at home.

Luke (6:39 PM): sammy, you’re no fun!! :P

You (6:40 PM): I don’t know whether to find that annoying or endearing. It fits you perfectly.

Luke (6:41 PM): you wound me, sammy

You (6:43 PM): So anyway........Dean cornered me when I got home. Either he’s too observant or we just didn’t cover our tracks very well.

Luke (6:45 PM): really? i’m surprised the idiot ever manages to observe anything. i thought for sure we’d be safe

You (6:45 PM): Hey! >:(

Luke (6:46 PM): relax, i’ll be on my best behavior for darling big brother

You (6:48 PM): He said something about bad cologne. Were you wearing cologne last night? I didn’t notice.

Luke (6:49 PM): probably because he doesn’t know what cologne smells like. also i’m not surprised you didn’t notice. weren’t you a little distracted? :)

You (6:51 PM): That looks so threatening when you do it.

Luke (6:52 PM): you say stuff like that all the time, sammy. when are you going to realize that i’m the good guy?

You (6:54 PM): Right. An absolute angel.

Luke (6:54 PM): 0:)

You (6:55 PM): Ha ha.

Luke (6:58 PM): oh no, i think i just heard my father pull in the driveway. i gotta go :((( but it’s ok, i’ll def see you tomorrow, sammy. sleep well! xoxo

Sam stares at the screen for another minute, expectant, before he finally rolls over and pulls the pillow over his head. He’s just on the verge of an impromptu nap when his phone screeches at him again. He sits up and grabs it, drops it once, then picks it up again, fumbling with the touch screen, until finally –

Jessica (7:08 PM): Go get him, Sammy! Have fun this weekend!!!! :) <3

He doesn’t even want to know. He shoves his phone to the floor and resumes his head-in-the-sand position, certain he’ll never want to leave his room again.

“Saaaaa~mmyyyyyy! Wash your hands and come down here for dinner, young man!”

***

Sam sleeps in the following Saturday morning (afternoon, whatever), and by the time he meanders down to the kitchen, it’s already three o’clock. The house is silent and presumably empty, until he swings open the kitchen door and finds Cas sitting alone at the table. He looks up and gives Sam a soft, playful smile.

“Good morning.”

“Hey.” Sam hurries past him to the cabinet and goes straight for the cereal, distracting himself with the arduous process of fetching a bowl and pouring the milk; anything that saves him from meeting eyes with Cas.

“Your parents are out on unspecific errands, if you’re wondering. Dean was called to the garage for a few hours, but he should be back shortly.”

“Oh. Okay, thanks.” Sam concentrates on the cereal’s nutrition facts as if they’re the most fascinating thing in the world.

It’s not that Cas makes him nervous – really, it’s quite the opposite. Cas has always been kind. A saint, really, to have put up with Dean for all these years. They’re both four years older than Sam, but Cas possesses a sense of intelligence and maturity that Dean never quite reached, and Sam admires him for that. It’s not that he and Cas are particularly close, but there’s a familiarity there, a comforting presence that Sam appreciates, even if it’s usually spent in silence. It helps that Cas is easy on the eyes, in a way that makes Sam’s stomach flutter in spite of everything else. (He’s also not sure if “Cas” is a nickname for something else, but Cas once said that his name was weird, and Sam has been too polite to ask again.)

He can’t prolong the cereal-making task any further, so Sam finally carries his bowl over to the table and sits, poking at it nervously while Cas sets a steady gaze on him. Sam’s actually startled when he finally speaks again.

“I hear you’re bringing a guest to dinner tonight.” Cas offers him that smile again, completely still, as if he’s ready for friendly conversation, but would understand perfectly if Sam didn’t want to engage. “A guest that...Dean isn’t too happy with, I understand?”

“Yeah.” Sam swirls his spoon, appetite dwindling at the thought. “This – this guy from school that I know. We sort of have a...thing. I’m not really sure what it is. But Dean doesn’t like him, which is totally stupid because he hardly even knows the guy, so I don’t get what his deal is.”

“Dean is...ah, difficult,” Cas concedes. “Sometimes. Well, often. You and I both know that.” He hesitates, setting his hands on the table. “This...friend, how do you feel about him?”

“He’s great,” Sam breathes without a second thought. “He’s...he’s really cool and totally cute and he can be a jerk sometimes, kind of like Dean, but mostly he’s just a huge dork and he actually _likes_ me, like he cares about me and wants to make me happy, or at least, it seems like he does, but all I ever hear is what a bad kid he is and everyone’s trying to plant all these doubts in my head, but I just can’t see him as anything but perfect, you know?” He’s vaguely aware of how – well – how completely _gay_ he sounds. Like those chick-flick moments Dean’s always trying to avoid. He blushes even more when Cas gives him a small chuckle.

“I know. Believe me, I do.” And he does, Sam realizes, because Cas dates _Dean_ of all people, which is kind of like the same thing. “But if he’s so perfect, then why do you still seem so troubled?”

Sam pulls a face, because the last thing he wants to do is discuss his sex life with his big brother’s boyfriend. “Let’s just say that I think we’re both moving at very different paces. Not on the same page, so to speak.”

“Ah.” Cas raises his eyebrows as if he understands, but Sam isn’t sure if he does. “Well, then...logically, you should try to _get_ on the same page, right? Talk about it?”

“Easier said than done,” Sam sighs. “And maybe that’s where the doubt comes in, all this bad stuff people say. I start to think that maybe he’s just leading me on, like this is some kind of game to him. He’s a senior, so I know he’s graduating in a couple weeks, and I...I don’t even know where he’s going after that. We’ve never really talked about it. Probably because he doesn’t think we’re serious enough to talk about it.”

Cas gives him another hard stare. “Do you want to be serious enough to talk about it?”

“I...” Sam looks down at the milk in his bowl, now tinged with blue marshmallow goo. “I guess so. Maybe. I really like him, I know that much, but I haven’t really thought about it, either.”

“Mm. Well.” Cas places a hand over Sam’s, comforting. “Maybe you should. Sit down and think about it, both of you. Talk about it. See how this dinner goes. And don’t worry about Dean, he’s an idiot.”

Sam laughs, and Cas pulls his hand away just in time for Dean to walk in, covered in grease and complaining loudly about how hungry he is. Cas offers him a kiss and Sam snakes past them to put his bowl away and abscond before the real macking starts.

He still has to pick an outfit for dinner, after all.

***

The doorbell rings at exactly six o’clock; not a moment sooner or later. Sam has admittedly been lingering, pacing the living room and casting furtive glances out the front window for any signs of...whatever Lucifer was planning to show up in, he didn’t even know. Which is why he jumps when the doorbell rings in perfect tune with the grandfather clock in the hallway. He doesn’t even think to stop and smooth out his shirt or hair, just flings open the door as if to attack an intruder.

What he finds is a bicycle, complete with full-sized basket latched to the handlebars, carrying what smells suspiciously like a fresh apple pie. It’s so baffling that he doesn’t even notice the boy it’s attached to until Lucifer leans into his field of vision, wearing a casual dress shirt, jeans, and a smart tie.

“Hey, Sammy.” Lucifer casts his usual smirk and reaches to brush a strand of hair from Sam’s forehead. His sleeves are rolled up, and Sam finds himself fixating on the curve of Lucifer’s wristbone, of all things. “Six o’clock, like you said. Is it all right if I leave my bike on your porch?”

It takes Sam a minute to realize that he’s staring, mouth hanging slightly open. He’s not even really sure what he’s staring at. Finally he manages in a faint voice, “You rode your bike here?”

“Yeah.” Lucifer shrugs as he leans the bike against the wall. “I mean, I drive, of course, I have the license and all, but my father has the only car and he doesn’t let me touch it most days.” And then he’s stepping into Sam’s space, tracing a few fingers along his chest before pulling him in for a kiss. Sam makes a small noise of protest, if only at the thought of his family just one room away. Lucifer laughs.

“That’s a really nice shirt, Sammy.” He fingers the blue striped material, running a hand down his chest. “It matches your eyes.”

“Oh. Th-thanks,” he mumbles through the heat flooding his face.

“It would look even better if I tore it off, don’t you think?” Lucifer whispers in a mockery of seduction, followed by an exaggerated wink.

“Wh-what?!”

But Lucifer just shoulders past him, now carrying the supposed pie as he crosses into the foyer. “I brought this for your family. Dessert tonight. I can’t wait to meet your parents, I bet they’re super nice, just like you!”

Sam finds himself pinching the bridge of his nose and praying to God that Dean doesn’t punch Lucifer at some point during the night.

Mary comes out of the kitchen just then, bearing a warm smile. “Oh, you must be Luke! Come in, come in, I’m just putting together some salad and I could sure use a helping hand!”

“Of course, Mrs. Winchester,” Lucifer offers, matching her grin. “I’d be honored.”

Sam, at a complete loss for words, follows them.

“I’ve brought you all a gift, Mrs. Winchester,” Lucifer continues, setting the dish on the counter and pulling back the foil to reveal a perfectly intact apple pie. “I baked it fresh this morning. I really hope you guys like it.”

“Oh my word!” Mary gives a little gasp as she admires it. “What a charming young man you are! Sammy always has such nice friends, I’m so glad you’re here tonight.”

Lucifer winks at Sam behind Mary’s back. Sam is torn between finding the whole thing utterly creepy or heartwarmingly sweet.

The door swings open again and Dean and Cas barrel in. They see Lucifer at the same time and actually stop to stare at him, Dean with a sense of disgust and Cas with pure surprise.

“Luke?”

It’s Cas who keeps his eyes trained on him, head tilted slightly in his usual fashion. Lucifer meets him with the same eerily similar gaze.

“Cas. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Likewise. It’s been a long time, Luke. Funny, isn’t it, that we should both choose to associate with a Winchester brother.” Cas gives him the smallest of smiles, almost pitying. “Is your father well?”

“He’s all right,” Lucifer responds, with an air that suggests a secret. “Same as always.”

“Okay, wait, wait, wait.” Dean finally breaks his stupor and cuts in, stepping in front of Cas to face him. “You _know_ this douchebag?”

“We’re acquainted,” Cas says simply. “He’s my cousin.”

Lucifer shrugs passively. Dean turns on Sam accusingly, as if he’s the victim of some kind of prank. “Did you know about this?”

Sam shakes his head a little, expression just as taken aback as Dean’s. “No. I-I had no idea, really...I mean, neither of them talk about their families much, you know?”

“We’re not very close,” Cas offers, shooting a sympathetic glance toward Lucifer. He hesitates as if to explain, but Lucifer gives the slightest shake of his head, and it’s all he needs. “But now that that’s out of the way,” he continues smoothly, sidling past Dean, “let’s enjoy this lovely dinner that Mrs. Winchester has prepared, shall we?”

Mary clears her throat awkwardly and gives a strained smile, holding up the salad bowl as a peace offering. “Um – well then. Dean, set the table, would you? I’ll just go upstairs and fetch your father...”

It requires a lot of maneuvering and clinking dishes, but the six of them are finally seated at the long dining room table, John in his rightful place at the head. The conversation is smooth for the first twenty minutes, and Sam is mentally praying that they’ll make it to the end until his mother turns to Lucifer, smiling.

“So...um, Luke, how old are you?”

“Too old,” Dean cuts in, and Cas taps his shoulder as a warning. “Michael’s your brother, isn’t he, Luke? About four years older, around my age?”

Lucifer hesitates, sets down his glass of water. “He is. He’s away at college, I don’t often see him much. He has his own place now by the university.” He pauses. “And I’m eighteen, Mrs. Winchester, to answer your question.”

“You know, your brother was a real tool,” Dean continues, ignoring Mary’s gasps and John’s eye-rolling. “Bet the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?”

“Speaking of apples,” Lucifer responds in his most sugar-sweet voice, “I baked an apple pie for tonight’s occasion. Brought it just for you, since I know you like them so much, but I can always take it home if you don’t want to risk being tainted. It’s my understanding that you don’t take well to hospitality.”

Sam just covers his face and seriously contemplates leaving the dinner table.

Mary eyes them all cautiously for a minute, letting the tension settle, before offering a wry smile again. “Well then. How did you and little Sammy meet?”

He downright smirks at this, and Sam wants to sink to the floor. “We have a lot of the same friends. We’ve become, ah...very close in these past few months.”

Dean opens his mouth for another crass comment, but one look from Cas is all it takes to keep him silent.

Mary, oblivious, helps herself to another serving. “I’m so glad Sammy’s made good friends, especially such a nice boy like yourself.”

“Oh, we’re not friends, Mrs. Winchester.” Lucifer, much to Sam’s absolute horror, places a hand over Sam’s. “Not just. You see, I happen to love your son very much.”

Sam actually does sink under the table this time. Dean looks ready to rip out Lucifer’s throat if he had half the chance. John, who had been silent the whole time, lets out a fond and exasperated sigh at the way his two boys turned out.

“Well, I don’t blame you,” Mary says after a long silence. “Who wouldn’t love my little Sammy? Just look at that face!” She actually reaches over to pinch Sam’s cheek, then stands to clear the dinner table. “Anyway, who’s ready for some apple pie?”

***

Lucifer volunteers himself for dish duty, along with Sam, and by the time they’re finally finished, Sam sneaks them away upstairs under the guise of playing video games. Upon entering Sam’s room, Lucifer is immediately distracted by the clutter of knick-knacks on his desk, and Sam uses the opportunity to discreetly lock the door behind them.

“You can learn a lot about a person from their bedroom,” Lucifer says quietly, fingers trailing along a stack of textbooks. “What they read, what they listen to, what their favorite color is...” He plucks a family photo off the desk, admiring it. Sam doesn’t mind, just lingers behind him, watching. Lucifer’s face speaks of an intense concentration that Sam finds too beautiful to interrupt, but he does so anyway.

“What you said down there,” he murmurs, toeing at the carpet. “You said you loved me.” He chuckles a little, dry, as if it were a joke Lucifer told to come off as charming.

“I never lie, Sam,” Lucifer answers, completely deadpan. He sets the frame down and turns to him, leaning against the desk in a deliberate action that casts him in silhouette, all angles and joints. Sam, at this point, is wondering if he’d be strong enough to throw Lucifer onto the bed in a fit of passion.

Lucifer blinks up at him through the shadow of his eyelashes, and something in Sam’s stomach churns and kicks at the sight of it. He smiles, warm and wide.

“Come here, Sam.”

Sam wastes no time in closing the gap, hands gripping blond hair, teeth clacking together. He fumbles for Lucifer’s tie and runs his tongue along his lower lip, catching it between his teeth. Lucifer pulls away ever so slightly, eyes smoldering.

“Samuel Winchester, was that your tongue?” he murmurs against Sam’s lips, smirking.

All he can do is whine in response, pushing against Lucifer’s hips in an attempt to guide him to the bed. They fall together, tangled up in plaid sheets, and Sam can no longer tell where he ends and Lucifer begins.

Lucifer pulls away for air, and Sam moves to unbutton his shirt, fingers trembling. Lucifer catches his wrist, presses a kiss to the vein there. “No,” he whispers, “I changed my mind. Leave it on. It looks so good on you.”

“Are...are we...” Sam can hardly form a sentence, but Lucifer understands.

“No, Sam, I’m not going to fuck you for the first time while your parents are downstairs,” he chuckles. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t take care of you, nonetheless.”

“Oh.” Sam lets out a slow breath, allows Lucifer to push him onto his back while he works on the button of his jeans. His eyes flutter closed as Lucifer’s fingers remove layer after layer, gasping when he finally feels cold skin on his cock, feels lips pressed against his ear, blushing a deep crimson under Lucifer’s filthy praises.

Their mouths melt together again, and Sam is drowning in Lucifer’s greedy kisses, surrendering every inch of himself. Lucifer’s strokes are languid and calculated, tracing a map on Sam’s skin, as if he wants to carve into a piece and call it his own.

“Soon, Sammy,” Lucifer promises, as Sam hovers on the edge. He can’t imagine how wrecked he probably looks, his hair in tangles and his shirt – _the shirt_ – bunched up on his torso. “All mine, aren’t you, soon enough, and you’re so beautiful, Sammy...”

It doesn’t take him long, coupled with the tension from dinner, nails digging into Lucifer’s arm as he comes. He’s grateful for the mattress beneath him, because his bones instantly become jelly, but Lucifer cradles him in his lap anyway, stroking Sam’s mop of brown hair.

The real wonder is that his shirt hadn’t been ruined in the process.

“Didn’t I say I wanted all of you this time?” Sam murmurs sleepily, content in Lucifer’s arms. “Pretty sure I said something like that.”

Lucifer smiles mysteriously. “Patience, Sammy, just like I said. Soon.”

“You say that every time.” Sam glares at him, albeit with not much bite. “How many times is it going to end like this?”

“Soon,” Lucifer repeats, and bends down to claim his lips. “Are you gonna walk me out before you fall asleep?”

Sam just rolls over to cover his face with a pillow, hiding the love-struck grin that has suddenly taken over his face. Lucifer straightens his shirt and makes to get up, but Sam yanks an arm around his waist, pulling him back down to the mattress.

“No. Stay.”

Lucifer sighs, resigned, and settles in next to him. They drift to sleep together, Sam curling into Lucifer’s side, with no concern for what their respective families might say in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  all you think of lately is getting underneath me  
> all I’m dreaming lately is how to get you underneath me  
> here comes the heat before we meet  
> a little bit closer  
> here comes the spark before the dark  
> come a little closer
> 
> \-- Tegan and Sara, "Closer"
> 
>   
> Wow, hey there, kids! College sucks. It sucks even more when you have to move out of your house in the middle of the semester. Hopefully this will more than make up for my absence.

***

Sam wakes up to a missed call, a text message, and a handwritten note on his bedside table, the last of which he notices first.

_Sammy -_

_I’m sorry I had to leave, I tried to wake you up last night but you just wouldn’t budge! You looked so cute, I couldn’t bear to disturb you ;) Give me a call when you wake up. Have a good day!_

_xoxo_

_Luke_

The text and missed call bear similar messages. Sam rolls over onto his side and stares at the blank screen, calculating his next move.

Somehow, the pillows still smell like Lucifer.

He finally pulls up his contact list and presses Lucifer’s name. It rings once, twice, surely he’s awake if he’s already sent a text, three times –

“Hello, Sam.”

Sam vaguely wonders how his heart could possibly still skip beats after all this. “H-Hey. Um. Good morning.”

“Good morning to you too,” the voice teases. “Well, afternoon, really. How did you sleep?”

“Uh. All right, I guess.” Sam sits up, rubbing his eyes in the light of high noon. “What time did you leave?”

“Not long after you fell asleep,” Lucifer confesses, and there’s guilt in his voice. “Shortly before one in the morning, if I had to guess. I’m really sorry, I just – my father –”

“Oh, hey, it’s okay!” Sam cuts him off quickly, waving his hand to an empty room. “I mean, I really didn’t expect you to stay anyway, and that’s kind of embarrassing, really, falling asleep in your arms like that, I mean how ridiculous is tha –”

“It’s cute.” Lucifer chuckles, warm and dark and it twists in Sam’s stomach. “You look absolutely angelic when you sleep, you know. Like a little kid.”

Sam makes a face behind the phone. “That’s a really awful comparison, Luke.”

“Never you mind that. I have a more important question.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” Sam’s on his feet now, and he realizes with a wave of shock that he’s still wearing last night’s dinner clothes, complete with questionable wrinkles. He almost doesn’t hear Lucifer’s question on the other end, struggling to unbutton his shirt in favor of something less suspicious.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Sam says distantly. “Like, after school, you mean?”

“Yes, like after school, I mean.”

“Um.” Sam sets down the phone to change shirts, his answer muffled through the cotton.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He picks up the phone again. “I said nothing. I mean, other than homework, I’m sure...”

“Then meet me right after the final bell. Behind the gym. We’ll go do something.”

“Something.” It’s a statement, not a question. “That sounds very specific.”

“The element of surprise is a precious one,” Lucifer responds, and it’s the cheesiest fucking thing but he still manages to sound like a spy novel hero. Sam is more than a little glad that his face is hidden for this conversation.

“Well. Okay.” Sam works to keep his voice neutral bordering on disinterested. “I mean, you know. Whatever you want.”

“What I want, Sam –” and he can practically _hear_ Lucifer’s smirk – “is you. Would that be all right?”

“Er.” Sam finally falters, and god damn everything, the phone is shaking in his hand. “Uh. Y-Yeah. That – that sounds nice, yeah. I’ll just umI’llseeyoutomorrowIgottagobye.” He hangs up and drops the phone without another moment of hesitation, and spends the rest of the afternoon cursing his complete ineptitude at everything.

***

Lucifer is already at Sam’s locker by the time he arrives. Sam falters, wary, and Lucifer shoots him a smile that screams _charming bastard_ , with a greeting to go with it.

“Morning.”

“Hey.” A few rows down, Sam can see Jessica staring at them, the entire rumor mill flowing through her wide eyes. Sam turns his back to her, which places him in Lucifer’s immediate space.

Lucifer leans in, close enough for his hair to brush Sam’s forehead. Sam is frozen, trapped between six feet of boy and a wall of lockers. Lucifer’s expression is soft, hesitant.

“Would it be all right if I kissed you?”

“Um.” Sam’s breathing is ragged, face red as the traffic flowing past them slows down significantly.

“It’s all right if you say no,” Lucifer murmurs. “I’d never do anything to make you uncomfortable, Sam.”

He nods, barely so, and clears his throat. “Um. Yes. I – yeah, it’s okay.”

Their lips meet, and it’s the slightest of things, delicate and over too soon, but in those few seconds, it still feels as if Lucifer wants to tear Sam apart, envelop every inch of him, inside and out, until their bones become one.

Sam definitely likes it.

Lucifer’s fingers trail Sam’s cheek as he pulls back, flushed and smiling. “I’ll still see you after school, right?”

“Yeah.” Sam nods again, unable to tear away from the vortex of Lucifer’s blue eyes. “Uh. Did you decide what that something was?”

He smirks, and gives him another peck. “Until then, Sammy.”

It’s only after Lucifer’s left the hallway that Sam notices Ruby just a few feet away, pointedly slamming her locker door.

***

“Where are we going?” Sam asks this about three times before they end up in front of the burger joint just a few blocks away from the school. Lucifer gestures to it triumphantly, and Sam gives him A Look™ out of the corner of his eye.

“...that’s it?”

“Well, what else were you expecting?” Lucifer smirks at him knowingly. “Had big dreams, did you, Sammy?”

Sam’s face and neck grow warm under his collar. “Y-You’re the one who made it seem like some big mysterious thing! What are we doing here, anyway?”

“What does it look like? Getting a bite to eat.” Lucifer holds open the door with a dramatic bow. “After you.”

“You’re a jerk,” Sam mutters, face still flushed as Lucifer ushers him through the door.

They’re seated quickly (not without a few strange looks – it _is_ still Kansas, after all), and Lucifer doesn’t even look at the menu, blue eyes gazing at Sam instead. “Order whatever you want, it’s on me.”

“Um.” Sam’s eyes skim the menu. “Do they have salad or something?”

“Salad?” Lucifer actually snorts a laugh. “You’re a teenage boy and you want _salad_?”

Sam’s used to this, but it doesn’t make him any less defensive. “I like salad,” he bites back. “Burgers are more Dean’s thing, I guess. And my dad’s.”

“No, they don’t have salad.”

“It says so right he –”

“Good afternoon, boys, what can I get y’all?” The waitress interrupts them, and Sam can’t get a word in edgewise before Lucifer smoothly rattles off an order.

“A coke and a burger for me, no cheese, please, and a diet coke and a cheeseburger for him, and, ah – lettuce and tomato, Sammy? – and I think that will be all, thank you.” Lucifer flashes her a handsome grin.

Sam glares at him. “Wait! Can’t I at least get a milkshake or something? Jeez.”

Lucifer goes oddly quiet, and the waitress gives them a friendly smile. “Sure, darlin’, what flavor would you like?”

“Um.” Sam nearly goes cross-eyed inspecting the menu. “Uh. This cookie dough one. Like, maybe after I finish my burger?”

“Absolutely.” She takes their menus and disappears. Lucifer drums his fingers on the table, staring at him as if it’s an interrogation.

“A milkshake?”

“Yeah, so?” Sam shrugs. “You said whatever I wanted. _Which_ , by the way, was a complete lie, seeing as I actually wanted salad, so you owe me this one.” He huffs, crossing his arms.

“You’re a brat. And a little kid.”

“So what does that make you, Luke?” Sam’s lips twitch upward.

Much to Sam’s surprise, Lucifer actually winks. “I guess that makes me kind of in love with you.”

Sam’s heart stops, but he forces himself to roll his eyes instead. “Whatever. You’re gross.”

The food comes surprisingly quickly, and they eat in silence for the first few minutes, Sam losing himself in the traffic just past the window. It takes him a while to realize that Lucifer’s been staring at him (almost _dreamily_ , what the hell) the entire time.

He sets his half-eaten burger down and shifts in his seat a little. “So. Um.”

Lucifer seems to sit up straighter at this, at full attention. “Yes, Sammy?”

Sam thinks back to his conversation with Cas and pushes a fry around on his plate. “I was just, you know, thinking about how you’re gonna graduate and all. At the end of June, right? Less than a month away...”

Lucifer turns somber at this, scratching the back of his head. “Uh. Yeah – yeah, I am. Crazy, huh?”

Sam lets it stew for a moment, then, “Where are you gonna go?”

“What do you mean?”

Sam sighs. “You know...like. College or whatever. I mean, you’re going to college, right? And you’re gonna...” He pauses. “Leave. You’re gonna leave.” _Me._

“Yes,” Lucifer says quietly, “I’m going to college.” He lets the statement hang unfinished, his eyes no longer focused on Sam.

When it becomes evident that Lucifer doesn’t want to say any more, Sam nearly growls in frustration.

“Oh, come on! I get it, this is just a fling, it doesn’t mean anything because you’re gonna leave in like two months and probably go to some prestigious school on the other side of the country and we’re never gonna speak to each other again. It’s fine, I can take it, just tell me now so I can stop doing...whatever it is we’re doing here and wasting my time.”

“I didn’t say this was a fling, Sam.”

“Stop avoiding the question!” Sam has to restrain himself from slamming a hand on the table. “You’ve obviously been accepted somewhere by now, probably registered for classes and everything, so where is it? Because I’m more than willing to bet you’re not gonna be in Kansas anymore.”

After a long moment, Lucifer gives a slow shrug. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Sam’s mouth hangs open before turning into a deep frown. “That’s bullshit, I’m a sophomore and even I know that you can’t be ‘undecided’ this late in the game.”

“Well, I am.” Lucifer shrugs again. “It’s actually because I got wait-listed for both schools, but in the end, I got in. I have a week to decide for one and two weeks for the other.”

“Okay, but _which ones are they_?” Sam’s practically leaning over the table at this point, eyes wide and anxious.

Lucifer lets out a defeated sigh. “Berkeley.”

Sam screws up his face. “Berkeley? Like, the California Berkeley?”

“Yeah.” Lucifer winces with guilt. “That’s the first one, the one in a week.”

Sam sinks low into his seat as he processes this. California. That was it, then, surely, because no one could pass up an opportunity like that, and he would never be worthy of convincing Lucifer otherwise. He’s just about to throw in the towel and call it a game when Lucifer takes another breath.

“I didn’t say what the other one was.”

“Does it even matter?”

Lucifer gives him a hard look, tongue in his cheek. “Kansas. As in, the University of. Here in Lawrence. You know, where Michael goes?”

Sam’s mouth is hanging open again, flabbergasted. It stays this way for nearly a minute.

“...oh.”

“And at first,” Lucifer continues, “it was just Berkeley, because I hadn’t heard from Kansas yet and figured I wasn’t going to and hey, it’s _Berkeley_ , right? It’s not like my father can’t afford to pay for it. And I heard from Kansas the same time I started seeing you. The same day, in fact. And I thought...well, that’s a sign, you know. I mean, it’s –” He stops abruptly. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

Sam furrows his brow. “What? What were you gonna say?”

“I just –” Sam has never seen Lucifer look quite so desperate, the very opposite of his cool, composed façade. “I just kind of think – you know, the more time we spend together, it just sort of feels like...destiny,” he finishes lamely.

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Destiny?”

“You know. Almost as if we were...made for each other.”

Neither of them speak for the next five minutes. The waitress, cheerfully oblivious, clears away their plates and comes back with Sam’s milkshake, a towering, whipped cream monstrosity, complete with a cherry on top. Sam plucks it off and sucks at it absent-mindedly, and Lucifer gives a little smile.

“You know, stuff like that is making me lean towards Kansas.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “You’re such a pervert.” He tosses the cherry stem aside and takes an obnoxious sip from the straw while Lucifer looks on wistfully.

“Oh my god, Luke, this is so good!” Sam waves his hand excitedly and holds out the shake, temporarily free of woes. “Try it!”

Lucifer just gives a dry laugh. “Oh, Sammy.”

“Wh-what?” Sam frowns and pulls away. “You don’t like milkshakes?”

“I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Oh.” Sam actually looks sad for him, and puts down the shake guiltily. “Wow. That sucks, man.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m – I’m sorry, this is so rude of me.”

“It’s okay, Sammy.” He gives a real smile. “Go on, enjoy it. I’m the one who took away your salad or whatever.”

“Yeah, you totally did. Jerk.”

***

They walk home together, and hold hands the entire way.

Technically Lucifer lives closer, but he deliberately steers them out of the way so that they eventually end up on Sam’s doorstep next to a blessedly empty driveway.

“No one home,” Sam says, but it’s stating the obvious. “Huh. Well, did you want to, um –” He clears his throat. “Do you want to come inside?”

They slink into the cool darkness of the house, but before Sam can switch on the hall light, Lucifer has him pressed against the front door. Sam drops his bag in surprise and Lucifer just stares at him, searching his eyes as if Sam contains all the answers to some unspeakable riddle. It makes Sam twist and squirm and blush before he finally settles his hands on Lucifer’s shoulders, shaky but decided.

“What are you waiting for?”

Lucifer closes the gap, and it’s different this time – slow and languid and delicate, Lucifer cradling Sam’s face as if he’s made of porcelain, thumb stroking his cheek with the care of a craftsman. It’s eerie and Sam _should_ feel uncomfortable but instead he leans into it, feeling safe and warm beneath Lucifer’s caresses.

He draws away from the door and takes Lucifer’s hand, leading him into the living room, and it’s probably one of his more reckless ideas but he still pulls both of them onto the carpet, shedding his blazer before stretching himself beneath Lucifer.

Lucifer, blue eyes lit up with desire, smirks.

His hands are steady as he slips Sam’s tie from his neck, pops open each button with conviction. Sam sucks in a breath when Lucifer straddles his torso, runs his fingers down Sam’s bare skin. He bends down and presses a kiss to Sam’s chest, feeling his heartbeat flutter under his lips.

“Amazing,” Lucifer whispers, and Sam’s not sure what’s so amazing, exactly, but he’s too far gone, too drunk on Lucifer’s presence to piece it together.

Lucifer slips Sam’s shirt off his shoulders and moves his lips to his arms, following the blue veins on his left elbow, down his forearm to his wrist, no longer kisses so much as a slow drag of skin against skin. He sucks on each of Sam’s fingers, scrapes his teeth along his palm.

It’s quite possibly the hottest thing Lucifer has ever done, and Sam’s not even hard.

This seems to go on for an infinite amount of time, Lucifer taking care to explore every one of Sam’s limbs, each individual appendage. He leaves a bite that’s sure to bruise on Sam’s hipbone, buries his face against Sam’s right knee, slides back up to the edge of his jawline to inhale the scent of Sam’s hair. Each movement is calculated, deliberate, and Sam feels a little bit like a specimen under a microscope, but the thought doesn’t bother him at all.

It ends with Lucifer’s hand on Sam’s chest, pressing heavy and solid against his ribcage. “Here,” Lucifer says softly, making a motion as if he wants to cut him open. Sam shoots him a quizzical look when he doesn’t follow up on the statement. Lucifer shakes his head, frowning, like he’s suddenly lost the ability to speak.

“What is it?”

“I –” Lucifer repeats the gesture, letting out a ragged breath. “I can’t describe it. I feel like I want to open you up and carve a hollow into your bones and live inside you, warm and close and safe, devoting myself to every inch of you.”

They stare at each other for several long seconds.

“Is that weird?”

“Kiss me,” is all Sam demands in response, and Lucifer is more than happy to oblige.

They lay right there on the living room floor for the better part of an hour, fully dressed save for Sam’s shirt, Lucifer idly running his fingers through Sam’s hair. They don’t even speak, for the most part, content with gazing into each other’s eyes and occasionally stealing kisses. Words seem unnecessary, too loud and discordant in the quiet stillness of the house, underneath the rays of the afternoon sun.

It’s a chore, but they finally manage to untangle themselves after Sam’s insistence that someone will be home soon. They stand and stretch and before Sam can reach for his shirt, Lucifer pulls him in for one last kiss, hands eagerly stroking his waist and hips and stomach.

“I’m ready, you know,” Sam murmurs against his lips. “And I’m still not sure what you’re waiting for.”

Lucifer chuckles. “Are you sure about that?”

“More than a little sure, at this point.” Sam’s too tired to argue, still riding the waves of the most non-sexual orgasm he’s ever had. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“I just want you to be happy, Sam.” Lucifer rests his forehead against his, eyes half-lidded and dark. “Will that make you happy?”

Sam traces a finger along his bottom lip. “I’m always happy with you, Lucifer.”

He smirks again, mischievous. “Stay at my house this weekend. Come after school on Friday.”

“Is that a promise?”

“It could be.”

Sam smacks his chest.

They’re still cradled in each other’s arms when Dean walks through the front door. Lucifer respectfully steps aside, gathering his things under Dean’s death stare. He stops at the door and claps Dean’s shoulder enthusiastically.

“That little brother of yours, I tell you. Really something. Catch you around, Winchesters!”

Sam has to grab Dean’s arm and physically restrain him as Lucifer breezes out the door, whistling cheerfully as he lights up a cigarette.

“That’s a real sleazy boyfriend you’ve got there, Sammy,” Dean snaps angrily when the door closes. Sam shrugs. It’s not like he can argue otherwise.


End file.
